


A Gift of Warmth

by NephilimEQ



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 1950s, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Banter, Christmas, Complete, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Eternal Sterek, Fanart, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hannukah, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-War, smut implied, soft derek, sterek, sterek au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NephilimEQ/pseuds/NephilimEQ
Summary: It's 1950, and Stiles and Derek are two army buddies sharing an apartment in NYC after the war. It's closing in on Christmas in the middle of Hanukkah week, and Stiles is cold. So is Derek. ...But something just might change that this year.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 18
Kudos: 209
Collections: The Sterek Secret Santa - Edition 2019





	A Gift of Warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThePiningTrees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePiningTrees/gifts).



> I *thoroughly* enjoyed writing this piece!! It sprung to my fingertips and just flowed onto the page, and I was thrilled that I had the wonderful opportunity to write this for someone and not just for myself. Happy Christmas!

** **

** A Gift of Warmth **

He was cold.

Stiles groaned as he walked through the front door at three in the morning and threw his heavy winter coat onto the chair next to the front door. It wavered for a moment under the weight of the wool…but didn’t fall over. If only they could afford to get new furniture, but not yet. They were saving up for a new rug, first. The floor was always freezing in the winter and it was nearing Christmas, and the first snow had just fallen two nights before. Icy floors weren’t exactly making their midnight trips to the bathroom any easier.

Just as he stepped into the small living room, he heard a noise from the front bedroom.

“Stiles?” his roommate, Derek, called out, sounding confused, “Is that you?”

Stiles collapsed on the old couch, springs groaning beneath him, tired and worn out, and chilled to the bone, his red shirt parted at the top as he quickly undid the first few buttons, and his hair was a disheveled mess. Derek, his best friend and roommate, bartended the night shifts at the local bar, McCall’s, and started work at five in the evening and got off shift at two am, while Stiles left for work at seven thirty in the morning and didn’t come home until seven thirty in the evening, so they didn’t usually see each other until seven in the morning, at breakfast.

However, Stiles had gone to work at his usual time…but he hadn’t come home until just now.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he answered as Derek walked out of the bedroom, his own clothes in the same state of disarray. “Before you ask, don’t ask,” he quickly said, holding his hand up, his head resting against the back of the couch. “I am only _just_ getting home and right now all I want is silence…”

Derek snorted and raised an eyebrow, but nodded and went silent, leaning against the doorframe, his shoulders taking up most of the space as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Stiles relished in the silence for a bit longer…and then said, “Okay, it’s too quiet, where’s the damn radio?” and Derek chuckled and replied, “Wondered how long that was gonna last. Not gonna lie, I’m impressed that you made it over a minute this time, Stilinski,” and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, you’re a riot. Can you just turn it on, already?”

Derek shook his head and walked over to the record player and informed him, “I got a new record today. Mind if I put it on?” and Stiles shook his head.

“Go ahead, anything to fill this horrible silence.”

Derek chuckled and put the vinyl on and placed the needle…and then tinkling, light piano music filled the small, cramped apartment. They didn’t have any neighbors, so they didn’t have to worry about anyone complaining about the noise, which Stiles was grateful for. He laid there and listened and was dimly aware of the fact that Derek had moved to their small kitchenette and was making them some hot chocolate.

Stiles smiled and thought back onto how they had met and why they were in their current situation.

The two of them had met while in the same platoon in the second great war. They were from wildly different backgrounds: Stiles was the only child from a wealthy Jewish family from upper Manhattan, and Derek was from a poor, Irish Catholic family with three other siblings from Hell’s Kitchen. When they had first met each other, Stiles had thought that the guy had never cracked a smile in his life…and then they’d nearly gotten their heads blown off and Derek had saved his ass, hauling Stiles down into a trench, and he’d joked, “They’re not allowed to kill the court jester,” and given him a wry grin and they’d been best friends ever since.

Stiles’ father kept on insisting that he could pay for a nicer apartment for the two of them, but both he and Derek had insisted on paying for it themselves.

It wasn’t much, and their’ heat was less than reliable (as well as their plumbing), but it was theirs, so they didn’t care.

Derek came back into the living room with two, hot steaming mugs of cocoa and Stiles took the cup gratefully, shooting him a fleeting smile, and sat up just long enough to take a sip, and then let his head collapse once more on the back of the couch.

“Ugh.”

He felt Derek sit next to him on the couch, his thigh just touching his, and Derek carefully asked, “Do you want to talk about it now?” and Stiles finally relented.

“Yeah, sure, why the hell not. So,” he started to explain, “You remember I told you about the new guy we got at the bank? Scott McCall? The idiot son of your boss?” Derek made an affirmative sound, so Stiles continued. “Well, it turns out he screwed up when he was doing the work that I gave him to do, today. Mind you, anyone with a second-grade grasp of basic math could do it, but… _some_ how…he managed to mess it up so badly that it took me the entire _night_ to fix it!”

He let out another groan of frustration and then finally lifted his head back up and looked over to see Derek looking at him with a furrowed brow, his mug absently resting in his hands.

“But…why did _you_ have to fix it? It’s his mistake, so shouldn’t he be the one to fix it?” he asked, and Stiles rolled his eyes and answered, “Oh, you would think so, wouldn’t you, but no. Not him. Because he is currently dating our secretary, Allison, and was her date to her family’s Christmas charity dinner tonight.”

At that, Derek’s eyebrows shot up almost comically as he said, “Allison? You mean you’re telling me that…Scott McCall, the guy who can barely get out a sentence around any girl that’s even _slightly_ pretty…is dating Allison Argent? As in, the daughter of the man who--”

“Owns Argent Banking. Yep,” Stiles finished for him, absently waving one of his hands out in front of him. “Go figure. I work for the guy for years, develop a good working relationship with him, start to become his friend, and then, suddenly, I am replaced with… _that._ ” Derek snorted, obviously trying to stifle a laugh and Stiles glared at him. “It’s not funny, Derek! I’ve been on the fast track to becoming one of his seconds in command, and now I’m suddenly being upstaged by a nitwit who can’t even _add_ properly all because he’s dating the boss’s daughter!”

Derek laughed and then sobered and said, “Okay, so, not the best situation, grant you, but don’t you think you’re overblowing it, here? Chris is a smart man. He will quickly see that Scott is denser than a post and not give it a second thought when he fires him.”

Stiles shrugged and then said, “Normally, I would agree with you, but…”

“But what?”

Stiles sighed.

“Even though Scott’s as dumb as they come, he’s actually a really good guy and so it’s kinda hard to hate him,” he begrudgingly admitted. “He’s like a puppy that runs around the house and ends up breaking your best vase, but when you go to scold him, he just looks up at you with those puppy dog eyes and you just sort of…you know…can’t help but forgive him.”

Derek gave him a look over the edge of his mug, and then swallowed and said, “He’s not a dog, he’s a grown man. He needs to learn to live with the consequences of his actions, and you fixing his mistakes for him isn’t going to help him learn.”

Stiles hated that he was right.

“Okay, fine. Maybe you have a point,” he conceded, and Derek smiled and retorted, “I always have a point. And you should know by now that the bartender’s always right,” and Stiles rolled his eyes again.

They sat there for a long time, sipping on their hot chocolate, and then Stiles looked up and glanced around the apartment. He didn’t know what it was, but something seemed different. He looked over at the wall where they had a few twinkling, red and green Christmas lights, and then in the corner of the room, where they had a small, but lush little tree, with popcorn and plain white string lights and couple of cheap ornaments from the store just down the block.

He then looked over at the menorah on the mantle of their fireplace (which, of course, didn’t work), and he smiled. When they’d celebrated their first Christmas in the apartment two years ago, they had decided that they would celebrate both holidays. His dad, despite being devoutly Jewish, embraced all the holidays and had never found it sacrilegious, and Derek’s dad had apparently grown up around those of Jewish faith and had insisted they learn about all the religious holidays, so it was immediately settled they would celebrate both.

Stiles’ dad had already dropped off all of the Hanukkah presents for the week, and Stiles had given him all of his, and their presents to each other for Christmas were under the tree. The stockings on the mantle were still empty, but Stiles had a secret stash of chocolate that he was planning on sneaking into Derek’s stocking on Christmas Eve night.

He glanced around a second time, trying to figure out what was different and then caught Derek’s eye, who was looking at him with a small smug look on the corner of his lips…and Stiles suddenly knew that he knew.

“Okay, what’d you do?” he asked accusatorily, and Derek shrugged and said, “I don’t know what you mean,” and Stiles glared.

“Derek, now’s not the time for--”

“Look down, you idiot,” Derek suddenly interrupted him, smiling fondly, despite his words, so he did…and Stiles mouth went wide at what he saw.

Putting his cocoa carefully down on the end table, he excitedly stood up and stared at the floor, marveling at what he saw. There, right underneath his feet, was the most beautiful oriental rug that he thought he had ever seen. In dark red, with cream and blue tracing out in vine-like patterns all across it, it was massive and filled up almost the entire room and Stiles couldn’t believe that he hadn’t noticed it as soon as he’d walked in.

“What…how…how did you…?”

He looked back up at Derek and saw that he was still smiling.

“I asked Isaac and Boyd to help,” he said in reply to Stiles’ unfinished question. Isaac and Boyd were the guys who delivered the beer to the bar and old friends of Derek’s. “They found it at an old house that was being cleared out for an estate sale. The owners were going to ditch it because it was stained in one corner,” he explained, gesturing with his thumb to the far corner of the rug that was tucked under the edge of the couch. “Isaac remembered and told them to leave it and they would take care of it for them. We didn’t have to pay a penny,” he finished, grinning like an idiot. “You like it?”

Stiles answered by quickly kicking off his shoes and then reached down and hopped awkwardly on one foot as he tried to take off his socks. Derek quickly stood up and grabbed him just as he was about to fall over and snorted and said, “I’ll take that as a yes,” and Stiles grinned.

“We have a rug, Derek!” he exclaimed, finally barefoot. “An actual rug!” He dug his toes into the plush carpeting and closed his eyes and smiled as he felt just how soft it was. He then opened his eyes and looked at Derek and said, “C’mon. Shoes and socks off.”

Rolling his eyes, but complying, he sat down on the edge of the ragged couch, which looked even worse next to the richly colored rug, and then removed his boots and socks.

As soon as he’d stood back up, Stiles said, “Okay, now help me move the couch,” and they leaned over and slid the couch until it hit the far wall, leaving the rug completely bare. Stiles marveled at it for a moment longer and then listened to the music as it played in the background and then, feeling whimsical, reached out his hand and offered it to his roommate.

“Cut a rug with me?” he asked, his lips turned up and his eyes dancing with amusement, certain Derek would roll his eyes at him and laugh him off.

However, he was taken aback when Derek said, “Sure, why not,” and took his hand, and then added with an arch of his eyebrow and a soft smile, “But only if you let me lead,” and then tucked a hand around Stiles’ waist, taking him off guard.

They started off a fair distance apart, while Stiles tried to figure out how to follow, not ever having danced the girl’s part, until Derek finally rolled his eyes and groaned, “Oh, for the love of…just _follow_ me, Stiles,” and he tugged him closer, and soon the younger man fell into step with him. As the two of them danced, the music barely changing tempo, they slowly got closer, and soon Stiles was close enough that he could smell the faint hint of spearmint on Derek’s breath.

He must have been getting ready to go to bed when Stiles got home, he mused to himself.

Softly, trying to ease whatever odd tension was filling the room, Stiles asked, “How’s Erica doing?” Boyd’s wife.

“She’s doing well. Baby’s due in three months, and the nursery’s already done,” he quietly replied, his breath brushing against Stiles’ cheek. “She said they’ve settled on two names,” he told him, adjusting his hand on Stiles’ waist. “Emma Lynn, if it’s a girl, and James Noah, if it’s a boy,” and Stiles let out a low laugh.

“Oh, god, my dad won’t let me hear the end of it if it’s a boy,” he said at hearing the boy’s middle name. “He’s always hated his first name.”

Derek didn’t say anything but gave him a faint smile…and tugged him slightly closer.

As they danced, Stiles wondered why he’d asked Derek to dance in the first place. He thought he was just being clever with his words…but this felt like something different.

The two of them had been through a lot. They’d been through a war together, after all. They’d been stationed in Germany and had been stuck in the trenches just outside No-Man’s-Land on one Christmas night, covered in mud and sweat and he’d never forget it. It had been dead quiet and then they’d heard a familiar tune come through the air from the other side…and he’d looked at Derek and saw him starting to sing along in English, and Stiles had joined him, and soon the whole platoon sang along with them.

After that one night of peace, they’d gone back to the war, each of them saving the other’s life more than once. Too many times to count, he admitted to himself as Derek lead the two of them confidently around their new living room rug, slowly warming up from the wool against their feet.

When they came back from the war, neither of them had even thought of saying goodbye to each other. It was just some sort of silent agreement that they would be getting an apartment together and that they would make it work. When Derek came home later than usual, Stiles made sure there was a breakfast that he could heat up on the stove, and when Stiles had to work late at the bank, he always came home to his favorite salami sandwich in the fridge with a note on it that reminded him to clean the dishes.

They each had a couple of friends, either from home or made at work, but most of their life was centered around each other. When Derek had caught the flu last February, Stiles had stayed home from work and kept an eye on him, nursed him back to health, and when Stiles had gotten a nasty cold in April, Derek had asked his uncle Peter to cover for him at the bar while he took care of him.

Neither of them had had any romantic interests in their lives for a while, now, he thought to himself.

In fact, Stiles slowly realized, despite his father setting him up with his old English teacher’s daughter, Lydia Martin, back when he’d first come home from the war, he hadn’t dated at all. Marriage had never even entered his mind.

Derek, too, had never dated. He’d told Stiles of an older woman when he was sixteen, but that it had ended badly, and so Stiles didn’t think anything of it. But then Braeden, one of the waitresses at the bar, regularly flirted with him, Stiles knew, but not once had Derek shown interest.

For the past three years, it had been just him and Derek…and it suddenly hit him that Derek was the only person he ever saw in his future.

They danced slower and slower to the piano music, and he felt Derek’s hand slip from his side to his back…and soon his fingers rested in the small of his back, the tips of his fingers lightly pressing, not really guiding him, just steadying him, Stiles no longer thinking about his feet, instinctively following him.

He slowly moved his head until it rested against Derek’s cheek and let out a soft sigh. Derek sighed as well.

A shudder ran down Stiles spine as he felt Derek’s lips brush against his right temple as he breathed out his name.

“Stiles…”

He licked his lips.

“Derek?”

Silence. And then…

“Will you…will you stay with me?” the older man asked, his voice barely above a whisper, both of them still swaying to the music, though slowly, and it was as if all the air rushed out of him at once, and Stiles suddenly felt dizzy and too warm, and so he pressed his head closer to Derek’s lips…and then answered in a gasping breath, “For as long as you’ll have me,” and at his words, it was like a spark had been lit.

They both stopped moving their feet at the same time.

Derek’s mouth slid down just as Stiles’ slid up and they met in the middle as easily as if they had done it a hundred times.

As they kissed, Stiles could feel the heat coming off of Derek and, to fight the urge he had to reach up and press his fingers to the bare triangle of skin exposed by the three undone buttons at the collar, he instead tucked his pinkies into his suspenders and held on, trying not to fall down as his knees nearly gave out under him. Derek’s lips were soft, but firm, and after a few seconds his lips parted, and so did Stiles’, and their tongues met, softly, questioningly, and then they sunk into it, Stiles’ hips instinctively pressing up into Derek’s as blood rushed south.

 _Thank god we don’t have a heater_ , he thought to himself as he soon found that both of them were sweating through their shirts.

He didn’t know how long they kissed, but it was long enough that they somehow managed to make their way out of the living room, into the small bedroom, without once breaking contact.

As they reached for each other’s shirts, undoing the rest of the buttons, Stiles breathed out, “God, how did we not know?” and Derek softly chuckled and said, “You mean how did _you_ not know,” and Stiles groaned as Derek undid the button on his pants and gasped, “How long? How long have you…known?”

Derek grinned.

“Two years.”

Stiles let out an annoyed sound and pressed his forehead to Derek’s shoulder and said, “You fell in love with an idiot,” and Derek gave him a full belly laugh, stopping taking off his clothes, and lifted Stiles' head with a hand on either side of his face and pressed a kiss to his nose and retorted, “Yeah, well, you’re _my_ idiot, so I don’t mind,” and Stiles laughed along with him.

They stood there a moment, and then he said in an awed tone, “God, I love you so much, Derek.”

He heard Derek’s breath catch in his throat at his admission, but then he said, “I love you, too, Mieczyslaw Stilinski,” and Stiles gave him a look with an arched eyebrow and asked, “Okay, so how long have you known about my name?”

Derek smiled at him as he answered, “I asked your dad a few weeks ago. It’s Hanukkah, after all, so I thought I should know how to say your given name,” and at his admission, Stiles felt a part of him simply melt, and he just stared at him, utterly confused and completely in love and then was even more taken when Derek added, “It’s the only Hanukkah gift I got for you, really. The rug was just a bonus,” and then Stiles cut him off by once more throwing himself at him.

After a moment, he said, “Wanna skip the sex and go straight to the cuddling? ‘Cause, I don’t know about you, but I am absolutely exhausted,” he admitted, fighting the urge to simply close his eyes and fall asleep right on Derek’s shoulder. “I’ve been up since six yesterday morning.”

He yawned.

He felt Derek nod, and then he suddenly lifted Stiles’ legs around his waist and gently deposited him onto his bed.

“Sounds good to me,” he commented, helping Stiles out of his suspenders, pants, and dress shirt, and then divested himself of his own clothes. He then got into bed right next to him, tucking himself into Stiles’ side, pulling the heavy down comforter over them, one of the few luxuries they owned, a housewarming gift to each of them from Stiles’ father.

As they both started drifting off fairly quickly, Stiles managed to get out right before falling asleep, “Thanks for the rug, Derek,” and heard him whisper back, “You’re welcome, Stiles. Love you…”

“Lo’ you, too,” he murmured as he drifted off.

He was warm.

\--


End file.
